


If This Ends Badly

by krebkrebkreb



Category: Life and Death - Stephenie Meyer, Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Dialogue, F/M, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 04:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16442789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krebkrebkreb/pseuds/krebkrebkreb
Summary: In the grand scheme of their exceptionally dangerous relationship it seems like this should be nothing. Beau’s number has been up so many times in her presence that this really should be less than nothing. Later, replaying the day in her head on nights stretching into eternity, she will wonder when it became inevitable that this would happen anyway.She isn’t sure she ever actually made a choice at all.Or, that fic where Beaufort Swan becomes a vampire in such a way that leaves him with only three quarters of a tongue and a speech impediment.





	If This Ends Badly

**Author's Note:**

> I waffled for about thirty seconds about posting this, then I waffled about posting anonymously, then I realized I didn't care. My life's goal is to bring the utmost seriousness to the utmost bullshit.
> 
> A massive, heartfelt apology to people who only follow my works for my Ovewatch nonsense.

****In the grand scheme of their exceptionally dangerous relationship it seems like this should be nothing. Beau’s number has been up so many times in her presence that this should really be, that this _is_ less thannothing. Later, replaying the day in her head on sleepless nights stretching into eternity, she will wonder when it became inevitable that this would happen anyway. She isn’t sure she ever actually made a choice at all.

If she did, it probably occurred somewhere on the way from Charlie’s, in the Jeep with the sound of the rain and of his voice. Surrounded by his nerves and her complacency.

“I’m going to puke in front of your family,” Beau is saying as they drive deeper into the woods. For some reason running with her makes him motion sick and it, like everything else oh too human about him, is a splendidly charming trait. Cute and helpless in a way she wants to protect.

Edythe glances towards him, eyes moving inhumanly fast before putting them back on the road.

“Keep your eyes closed, you’ll be fine.”

He shakes his head with a sigh and reaches over. His touch startles her, hot silk against her frozen granite skin.

“Hi,” he says, and his warm breath curls around her. “I missed you.”

Edythe laughs. “I missed you, too. Isn’t that strange?”

“Why strange?” He looks so cute and as he asks. He doesn’t ever seem to remember that he should consider her inhuman, with other standards to be held to.

“You think I’d have learned more patience over the last hundred years. And here I am, finding it difficult to spend an afternoon without you.” Consciousness without pause for 87 years and only now is each passing moment unbearable because he isn’t in them. Not for the first time does she think she might be behaving a little irrationally.

“I’m glad it’s not just me.”

Not for the first time does she not _care_ about behaving irrationally, especially if that’s how he feels about it. She leans in, running on impulse and acting before she can think to regret it, and kisses him on the cheek.

His scent surrounds her and lingers afterwards. It is already filling the Jeep and oh, oh, she should have kept the window down. It just—It _clings_. To her skin, her hair, her very soul. The ever present dampness, made worse by the falling rain outside, only serves to give more in the air for the scent to hang on to. And she never exactly wants it to escape.

No. She does. She wants the scent to escape into the clouds because then there will be less of it clawing into her stomach and the predatory parts of her mind.

She wants Beau to be safe.

Mind over matter.

She sighs. “You smell even better in the rain.”

“In a good or bad way?”

In a way that makes her throat burn and her body ache to snap his neck and break his skin and _drink_.

In a way that makes her want to wrap herself in this greatest of perfume and keep him safe so it never goes away.

“Always both.”

The road grows bumpier and stops her from having to listen to his apologies. At least, she thinks they will be apologies. That’s the thing with Beau, isn’t it? She never really knows, and that _not knowing_ is so enticing.

It brings a grin to her face.

The sheeting rain eventually dissolves into a drizzle, from uncountable raindrops to a shower and finally almost to none as they pull into a small lot at the end of a road. They’re surrounded on all sides by dense forest. Somewhere in the back of her mind she can already hear Carine and Eleanor and Royal in their baseball field.

“Sorry, Beau,” she says with a little smile, “we have to go on foot from here.”

He bounces his leg nervously. “You know what? I’ll just wait here.”

“What happened to all your courage? You were extraordinary this morning.”

“I haven’t forgotten the last time yet.” He looks almost green. The relief she might feel at how pale he is, at how much less blood is flooding his face, is almost entirely replaced instead by brief worry that he might be unwell. It’s silly, she knows, but he is so, so fragile. So much maintenance goes into being human. Already this weekend she has forgotten to feed h.mim.

Edythe hops out of her seat at a speed that must be a blur for him, circling around the front of the car and popping his door open in a flash. When she goes to undo the off-roading harness he protests.

“I’ll get those, you go on ahead.”

Edythe can’t tell if he’s stalling for time or genuinely preserving his modesty. Either way done before he even gets a few words out, pulling it out of his way and stepping aside.

“You don’t trust me?” she asks, changing the topic back to their impending run.

He trusts her not to take a bite out of him, but not to carry him while she does something that requires less effort than breathing? He walked into a house full of vampires, some of whom only feel a fraction of her desire to keep him alive. He stood in front of a truck.

Something occurs to her. Something delightful but dangerous. Something that depends on her being right about Beau not wanting to defend his modesty from her.

“Do you remember what I was saying about mind over matter?”

“Yes,” he says, but he sounds unsure.

“Maybe if you concentrated on something else.”

“Like what?” Half curiosity, half wary. That’s her Beau.

The Jeep is tall. Edythe has to climb partway into it to execute her plan, placing one knee beside him on the seat. She steadies herself with her hands on his shoulders, taking in the feel of his fragile bones and the close scent of his skin. Her face is very, very close to his as she moves her hands to his cheeks.

“Keep breathing,” she instructs.

“How?” He sounds like he might not.

She smiles for a second. It’s good to know she’s not the only one affected. It helps remind her that it isn’t just predatory _hunger_ that draws her to him. This, probably, is when, is _why_ the scale of fate tipped away from him.

“When we’re running—and yes, that part is nonnegotiable—I want you to concentrate on this.”

Edythe breaks eye contact so they’re cheek to cheek. She moves one of her hands down his chest, feeling the heat radiating through his sweater. It settles on his hip and she squeezes gently. Oh so gently.

“Just remember us… like this…”

Her lips travel from his ear, ghosting across his jaw and down to his neck. His blood sings to her when she’s this close, but… something is missing from the bouquet that is Beau.

“Breathe, Beau,” she murmurs into his skin.

He does, loudly. One gulping breath that makes her smile as she kisses his jaw, then his cheekbone. “Still worried?”

“Huh?” he asks.

She chuckles, cupping his face in her hands so she can kiss his eyelids. Even they are blazing hot beneath her lips.

“Edythe,” he says.

Distantly, she can hear Earnest’s thoughts as he marks four bases and an outfield. Archie’s visions as he and Jessamine play catch, always a step ahead of reality. The wind carries the scent of a deer, fresh after the rain.

She tunes all of that out and kisses Beau.

It isn’t as sweet and careful as she has been before. Edythe takes the lead this time, worried slightly less now about breaking him. This entire day has emboldened her: he survived everything so far. She doesn’t _want_ to hurt him, not one bit. She wouldn’t be able to go on without him now.

Mind over matter. It’s so _easy_.

His arms are around her, warm and welcome and alive.

She’s a little worried about him getting cold, pressed up against her like this. She isn’t at all worried about hurting him.

His tongue seeking hers is a surprise she isn’t prepared for. They have already discussed it, have already acknowledged that it is too dangerous to ever do more than just kiss chastely. Maybe she should have been more clear. Maybe she should have explained to him in detail the dangers of her venom and her razor sharp teeth and her strength. She didn’t want to—oh, it’s _awful_ , but she didn’t want to disappoint him.

Instead, his tongue slides into her mouth and she _lets him_ . Neither of them are very good at this, she thinks, and it would be easier if she could read his thoughts and anticipate what he wants, but then he wouldn’t be _Beau_. And it’s Beau she wants to be kissing.

He tastes like how she imagined heaven would. She could taste him this way forever and it would be a weak substitute for his blood but she could do it. She could do this for him.

Edythe rubs her thumb against his cheekbone with less pressure than would disturb a down feather.

He sighs, she tastes his breath, and then she tastes something _else_.

His tongue must have slipped. _Her_ tongue must have slipped. Maybe one of them was overzealous in the way their lips pressed into one another.

Edythe can taste his blood.

She pulls back in a flash, removing her hands and her body from him and fleeing to the tree line, and for just a moment she lets herself roar with frustration and fury.

Why is she the one screaming? Shouldn’t he be the one behaving like his life is going to end? He’s just sitting there, hands covering his mouth, looking at her with wide blue eyes like _he_ did something wrong.

The loudest thought in her head is that this is more horrifying than satisfying. More gut-wrenching than delicious. The second loudest thought is to get Carine.

“Does it hurt?” she demands, already hauling him into her arms. If it doesn’t hurt much he might be fine. There might be no venom inside of him. It might just be another Beau accident. Another in a long line of ways he’s _almost_ met his end since moving to this town.

The response her question gets is a high whine, tense and short. Like a wounded animal. The deer she smelled earlier, if she had simply bitten its leg and left it to die.

Not good.

It occurs to her that _into the woods_ is probably the wrong direction to be taking him, but that’s where Carine is. She can hear the jumbled thoughts of her family as they react to her yell, to Archie’s visions as he tunes in on her, to this disaster she has brought upon them.

Beau is shaking in her arms. A full body quiver as sweat breaks out on his forehead. It’s hard not to break him further by giving in to how badly she wants to hold him tight.

Mind over matter.

“You’ll be fine, Beau,” she says as she runs. Two minutes, maybe, until she’s in the clearing. Her family has decided to wait.

“Close your eyes and think about something else. Maybe you can call out sick for that science test.”

The attempt at humor falls embarrassingly flat. She wants him to smile but oh, oh that is unattainable right now, isn’t it?

“Edythe!” Carine is shouting as she breaks into the clearing. Edythe spots her right away, standing with the rest of the family by where something—jackets?—are spread on the ground. _Almost_ the rest. Jessamine is absent.

“Edythe, this way. Lay him down here. Archie says—Just tell me what happened.”

“I can smell blood,” Royal says almost on top of Carine. His eyes are wide, even from ten feet away, and Edythe hears the _hunger hunger hunger_ in his mind.

Edythe snarls.

Beau’s fingers find her cheek, a shocking fire. When she looks down to his face it’s plain to see he’s been crying. His jaw is tense, like he’s clenching his teeth tight.

“You are so _stupid_ ,” Royal bites out, his own teeth bared. “The danger you’ve put our entire family in, _again_ — _still!_ —when you know what Archie has seen-“

Archie groans, sounding surprisingly _human_ compared to the rest of them. “I’ve seen him becoming my _friend!_ I still see that, even if he’s like us!”

Edythe hears everyone’s thoughts as they figure out what to say in response to _that_ , as everyone decides how to manipulate this situation to cause the least damage. Even Royal, through his fury and fear and his envy of Beau’s beating heart, doesn’t only think of himself.

Above all of that she hears Beau moan in pain.

“Set him down on the coats, Edythe,” Carine commands. “Tell me what happened.”

Edythe kneels, knees of her pants falling onto Eleanor’s satin baseball jacket. She keeps Beau in his arms. She can’t let him go and admit this at the same time. “He—I—I _bit his tongue_.”

Royal barks a short, startled, incredulous laugh. “You _didn’t._ Edythe…”

Beau moans again. _Edythe_ moans in sympathy, in despair. “Berate me later. _Help him_.”

Carine kneels beside Edythe, gently but firmly prying her fingers from Beau’s sweater, pulling Beau from her arms. “We’ll try. Edythe, he might…“ _Change_ , she doesn’t say. Edythe hears it as if he did.

“Carine, he doesn’t _know_.”

Beau doesn’t know how people become vampires. He doesn’t know about the treaty with the Quileute wolves, he doesn’t know about the Volturi, he doesn’t know how _painful_ this will be for him. Because of her.

Beau doesn’t know _so much_ because she’s been so irresponsible. So selfish.

None of her family say anything out loud but she can still hear their condemnation.

“Beau, I’m so _sorry_.” She cards her fingers through his hair as Carine pries his hands away from his mouth. “Beau, I can’t even ask you to forgive me…”

Earnest is in her head, loudly insisting that she try to explain. It will be easier on him, he’s trying to tell her, if he at least understands how the change happens.

Carine’s fingers hold his mouth open, pulling his teeth apart to get a view of the damage he’s done. Beau is making these horrible little choked noises through the blood welling up from his tongue.

Standing ten feet away, downwind, Eleanor gags. “Edythe, I can’t-“

“Go, then!” Edythe growls.

Eleanor runs off. Royal follows. Edythe doesn’t _care._

“The bite is almost all the way through,” Carine says out loud, as if the exchange between her children didn’t happen. “It nearly severed the tip. Beau, if the venom hasn’t spread we will need to get you to an oral surgeon. We can’t do anything about this out here.”

Beau whines and stares past Carine, at Edythe. Her hands fumble on the sleeve of his sweater, clumsy for the first time in nearly a century. _Beau..._

Has it even been a full day since she confessed to him that he’s the most important thing to her?

“Wait” Archie says, urgent. Alarmed. “We have other concerns.”

The vision passes from him to Edythe. _Three strangers approaching, feet bare and eyes red. Edythe’s cry has brought them here and they’re curious. The wind shifts, carrying the scent of Beau’s blood. There’s a fight over him. The Cullens win. No, the Cullens lose. No, the Cullens win but Beau is torn from them, blood all over the jackets still on the grass. No, they flee right now and she and Beau get married in Alaska, his eyes red and his skin pale—_

“ _You_ decided that,” Archie insists.

“What about what _Beau_ wants? This isn’t—This isn’t _fair_.”

“It’s never fair, Edythe.” Carine is pulling her hands away from Beau’s mouth carefully. Edythe can see that she isn’t breathing more than she has to to speak. _He isn’t delicious only to you_ , Carine reminds her. _He is so special._

He is so special and Edythe ruined him.

“Strangers are _coming_ ,” Archie insists. He’s staring towards the tree line, past where they mark third base. Carine and Earnest stare at him; they haven’t seen what he and Edythe have.

Beau makes the _worst_  sound then. Like he’s being stabbed. Like a wounded calf. More pained and more violent than she can bear.

“Fire,” Beau says, hand clenching at his own chest. It’s the first word he’s gotten out since her _stupid mistake_. Slurred and rough but they all still understand it.

They all understand what it means. They all remember how it felt to change.

“Beau. Beau, I’m so _sorry_.” She doesn’t think he can ever understand how deeply she feels it. One second of inattention and now he’s dying in a field. “Beau, it will be painful. I can—I can stop it for you. I won’t blame you if you don’t want to be like me. Like us. If you don’t want...”

Beau’s wild eyes swing to Archie. Beau knows about his gift, Edythe remembers.

The vision again passes from Archie to Edythe. _The barefoot, red-eyed strangers finding an empty field. Beau’s friends all dressed in black. Beau’s father and mother and stepfather supporting each other at his gravesite. Beau wakes up in the Cullens’ airy living room, strong and pale and born again as stone._

“Okay,” Edythe says.

She gathers him into her arms. She runs. Her family follows.

She remind herself for centuries to come that in the end, he chose this. It doesn’t ever help the guilt.

 

**Author's Note:**

> krebkrebkreb @ tumblr if you wanna yell at me ♡
> 
> For a while working on this I had a copy of Life and Death, a copy of Twilight, and also a digital copy of Life and Death open at the same time to different places so I would keep things as close to canon and everyone remains as in character as possible. Neither Beau nor Bella learns about the venom until Archie/Alice tells them in Phoenix. Wild.


End file.
